Some Things Never Change
by Amethyst DragonRider
Summary: The worst is mostly over, but America is still sick due to his suffering economy. England really wants to fuss over him, but there's a problem. They're in the middle of a meeting.


_De-anoning from an LJ fill. Could be seen as UKUS if you wish, but it was intended to be more father/son-ish. Enjoy!_

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><p>"So! I think it'd be great if we could just—"<p>

A loud cough interrupted the speech. America winced, trying to clear his throat. "I-if we could just build a giant—" Again, he was interrupted, and he tried to hold back a frustrated scowl as he waited for the coughing fit to subside. Canada was giving him that concerned look again; the look that meant 'brother, I love you, but you need to shut up and rest.' America pretended to be annoyed by it ("I'm fine, Canada, geez! Heroes don't need rest, remember?" he'd told him before), but really, it was rather touching. And England was just looking at him like he was a 'bloody idiot' again.

England knew that America had been sick for a while now, of course—if the used tissues all over the place were any indication. This was the umpteenth time that America had had to pause during his speech to cough, sneeze, or blow his nose, and the rest of the room's occupants were getting fed up with it. They couldn't even understand half of what America was saying due to his stopped-up nose, and what they could comprehend was just his usual nonsense, it seemed. Many of them were grumbling under their breath about how America was going to get them all sick if he kept this up.

Honestly, England thought, why had America even turned up, anyway? It wasn't as if anything ever got accomplished at these things, and he was clearly ill. He was taking the recession badly, and the prediction of a second recession did nothing to ease England's mind. Unpleasant memories of America's condition during the Great Depression threatened to overtake his mind, but he pushed them away. No, it wouldn't get that bad again—not this time around, at least.

Still, he couldn't help but worry—not that he would ever admit to worrying about America, but he was, nevertheless. His former charge was clearly in a state of misery, even if he was good at hiding it, and all England wanted to do was have him lie down and wrap a blanket around him, maybe even make him some soup or something. Not that it would do much good, he knew this. The only thing that would make America's health improve was if his economy improved. But it was the principle of the thing, he supposed.

But the childish idiot probably wouldn't even appreciate it anyway, he thought sulkily. The ungrateful twit would probably just go on about how heroes didn't get sick and that he would be fine, and then proceed to make fun of him. Idjit.

Still, as the meeting wore on, England couldn't help but notice how pale America was, and he had the urge to feel the younger nation's forehead. Did he have a fever? What if it got worse? There were also sleepless circles under his eyes (which didn't shine as much as usual, now, he saw), and England wondered how long it had been since America had slept properly.

He frowned, trying to squash his parental feelings down. They were in the middle of a meeting, he told himself harshly. He couldn't just go up there and start mothering America with everyone watching, especially not during America's speech (it wasn't as if he were talking about anything interesting, true, but it would be rude, nevertheless. And English gentlemen weren't rude). He at least had to wait until America's turn was over before doing anything.

It felt like an eternity before Germany had apparently had enough. During another one of America's pitiful coughing fits, Germany stood and declared that America's time was up. For a moment, England could have sworn that America looked almost fearful, as if he had taken Germany's words the wrong way (he wondered if America's fever was really that high, and his concern grew just a bit), before the look was replaced with a pout. A short argument followed, Germany coming out victorious when America sneezed.

America trudged back over to the table, pouting, and sat next to Canada, who was near enough to England that if the British nation leaned over just a bit, he could make out America's condition much better now that he was closer.

He really did look miserable, England mused. He could see little droplets of sweat on America's brow, further indicating fever, and the circles under his eyes seemed a bit darker now. Canada seemed to notice this as well, and the two appeared to be arguing quietly while Germany talked (he could see how the German nation would send America an annoyed look whenever he coughed or sneezed, which only served to make England feel more protective).

It was when England spotted tears in America's eyes during a harsher coughing fit that he could take it no longer.

"Excuse us." He said, nodding to Germany, before standing up. Everyone's curious gazes were on him, but he ignored them as he pulled America up by the arm.

"Hey, England, what are you doing?" America asked, voice sounding hoarse from all the coughing. His stuffy nose only served to make him sound even more pathetic, and England tightened his grip.

"Come on, you bloody idiot. We're going back to the hotel." He said, leaving no room for argument, and dragged America out of the room, promptly ignoring France's smirk at his choice of wording. As he passed, he could have sworn Canada looked pleased.

"But England, I'm fine." America whined, even as he followed England out to the parking lot. "I don't need to leave!"

"You're interrupting everyone, you disgusting git." England said with a frown, pausing for a moment to place his palm on America's forehead. "You have a fever."

"I know that." America said, pouting. "It's not that bad."

"It is that bad!" England contradicted, glaring at him. "Don't you realize how sick you are? Let's hurry and get you to bed. We're taking my car."

Surprisingly enough, it didn't take much to get America to comply. England was able to persuade the younger nation to get into the car without much trouble, and the drive was…oddly quiet, except for the occasional cough or sneeze, which really only made England worry more.

It was a bit harder to get America to lie down, however. Even when ill, the American possessed much more strength than England did, but the elder of the two finally managed to get America to lie down (he'd had to push him onto the bed, which caused America to get disoriented due to his fever; England considered apologizing, but decided against it).

He removed America's shoes with care, covering him up and making sure he was comfortable. He felt the other's forehead again, with the same results as before, and sighed. "You shouldn't have come, you know." He scolded half-heartedly, frowning down at America, who looked more fragile now that he was covered up. He seemed even paler against the dark-colored bedding. "You're going to make everyone else sick, spreading your germs like that."

To his surprise, America merely mumbled a small 'sorry', his voice a bit raspy. England went and fetched him a small cup of water, and with a little difficulty, America managed to sit up enough to take a sip. "Hey, England?"

"Hm?"

"Uh…thanks."

England blinked, arching a fuzzy brow at America's weak grin. Then, realization dawned on him. America had wanted someone to fuss over him, hadn't he? He'd wanted someone to take care of him and feel sorry for him; he'd wanted someone to see how miserable he really was.

The sneaky git.

England shook his head, a small smile making its way onto his face despite himself. "Just go to sleep, you obnoxious prat."

"You'll stay with me, right?"

"…Right."

America smiled contentedly, and closed his eyes. England waited until his breaths had evened out, before leaning down to plant an affectionate kiss on America's forehead, like a parent giving a reassuring kiss to a sick child, then carefully laid down on the other side of the bed. He watched America sleep for a while, thinking about other times in the past when he'd had to take care of him in much the same manner. When America would need comfort, and England was right there to give it to him.

Some things never change.


End file.
